


What fire joins together...

by SimplexityJane



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Aunt/Nephew Incest, F/M, Post-Series, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 18:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12658803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplexityJane/pseuds/SimplexityJane
Summary: None may tear asunder.Or, the third wedding of Daenerys Targaryen.





	What fire joins together...

_“Three fires will you light. One for life and one for death and one to **love.** ”_

The face in the weirwood was awful. Daenerys stared at it for several long moments, and it stared back.

She knew that the power there came from those who had once been mortal. A man who had once been an uncle of hers had given himself over to the trees, as had Jon’s brother Bran. Still, when she looked at that eternal, terrible face, Dany knew there was something more to it. The Children had carved a face here, and the First Men had built a strange castle surrounding this very tree. It was warm, here, warmer than she had thought the North would be. A beating heart, something living to fight the Others.

She closed her eyes against the torrent of images that assaulted her now. A thousand thousand bodies had burned underneath her, her dream of the Trident come true years after she had forgotten it. She had been filled with rage and pain, then, Viserion lost, Rhaegal vanished, King’s Landing consumed in green flames. She had been _so happy_ to have something she could kill, something that would not leave a ghost to torment her.

Drogon had been with her, then. His absence was an ache in her chest that would never heal, no matter how many human children she bore. He and his brothers had been her only children for so _long_ …

“Dany?” Jon asked. His eyes, those dark gray eyes grown so beloved, were kind. “It’s time.”

Her red priest smiled too, the red flames seeming to dance on his dark cheeks. Moqorro glanced at the weirwood, wary, before shaking his head. He pulled one of the torches from the ground, showing no fear as the flame pointed at his face. She took the proffered hilt, Jon’s hand closing over her own.

“Together,” she murmured. He smiled, and for a moment his face looked almost like her own, the one she saw every day in the glass installed in her rooms generations ago. _Mine_ , she thought fiercely.

“Together,” he agreed, and they touched the tip of the burning torch to the dry wood and kindling laid in front of the heart tree. As soon as the flames kissed the wood more flicked up, greedily drinking up more and more of the wood. Beyond the flames she glimpsed faces, smiling faces of her people.

Once, she had had a dream of a fat and happy people who loved her. It was a child’s dream – the people here were gaunt from winter and war, happy as they were – but here it was, come true. These people loved her, and they loved Jon, and they even loved Tyrion Lannister, who had ridden a dragon just as easily as anyone with Valyrian blood would, with only his wits to keep him steady.

“Who comes? Who comes before the gods?” the Lady of Winterfell asked. Her red hair shone like fire against the backdrop of the trees. She was looking at Dany. This was not tradition, a woman asking the questions, but none of this was traditional.

“Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, Queen of Dragonstone, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods.” _All gods who might hear_ , she thought.

“Who comes to claim her?” Sansa Stark asked. She too was married, though her husband was far away and would never return to the North. The words seemed to pain her. The response had certainly pained Jon, when Daenerys asked how it would work. He had so many names, this husband of hers.

“Me, Jon Snow of House Stark and Targaryen, trueborn son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen and foster son to Eddard Stark, King in the North and Prince of Dragonstone. I claim her.”

“Who gives her?” There was a smile playing about Lady Sansa’s lips.

Dany did not hesitate to answer.

“I give myself, freely,” she said. Her smile was fit to burst off her face.

Lady Sansa’s smile was even brighter, now.

“I don’t suppose I have to ask, but…. Queen Daenerys Targaryen, do you take this man?”

“Yes,” Dany sighed, looking to Jon. He was staring at her like she was a miracle. Then, louder, “I take this man.”

They knelt before the heart tree for only a moment. Moqorro was singing softly, asking the Lord of Light’s blessing as night crept closer. He had objected most strenuously to this particular piece of the ceremony, but they had remained firm: made by men or no, the power here was _good_.

When they stood, Daenerys unclasped the cloak at her throat. Her flesh pimpled in the cool, covered as it was by white wool. Her dress was light and barely brushed her feet, the better for the second part of the ceremony. The black cloak of House Targaryen was heavier, sturdier, and above all warmer.

Jon caught her cloak. There had been some confusion as to whether the direwolf of Stark or the three-headed dragon of Targaryen should be favored. In the end, he wore the wolf, and she the dragon. They would keep their names, both of them, though their Houses would forever be joined in love and blood.

“I love you,” he murmured as he swept his hands around her shoulders, pinning the cloak about her throat with a delicacy few would expect from him. It was the first time Daenerys had had a husband who would say the words, and she felt tears pricking at her eyes. Drogo, he had loved her fierceness after a time, and he had helped her grow into her power, but she had ever been at his mercy. Hizdahr… there had been no love there.

But she loved Jon Snow, Aemon Targaryen, whatever he wished to call himself. He was hers, mind, body, and soul, in a way that she had never known to be possible. He had gone to his second death with her by his side, and the horrible miracle of their survival had been made better because of his devotion to her. Even in her darkest moments, he had always been there.

“Lord of light, look down on these two who come before you,” Moqorro boomed. He looked to Dany and Jon. “Jon of House Stark and Targaryen, Daenerys of House Targaryen, will you share your fire with your partner, warm each other when the night is dark and full of terrors?”

“I will,” Jon said. Dany echoed him. They were holding hands when Moqorro raised his hands.

“Two go into the fire.”

And they leapt. The flame seemed to brush Dany’s ankles, light as the sweetest kiss. Then they were across, and the faces were closer than ever.

“And one emerges. What fire joins together, none can tear asunder. Be forever joined in the Light of the Lord.” The fire rose at their backs, making quite the spectacle for the watching crowd. There were cheers from all corners as Jon pulled her close, and Dany found his mouth in the shadows cast by the flames. He was warm and alive and _hers_ , and she loved him.

His hand found the slight swell of her belly, and she smiled into his neck. That was a secret for now, just for the two of them. Until she knew she would deliver a living child, knew it for true, she would keep it close to her heart.

For now, it was only a promise of a tomorrow, one they would see together.

**Author's Note:**

> I made my teeth hurt writing this, but it demanded to be written. 
> 
> A note on titles: Jon is called King in the North and Prince of Dragonstone and Daenerys is only referred to as Queen of Dragonstone. This is because the Iron Throne was dissolved (quite literally) in an explosion of wildfire in King's Landing, cementing the breaking apart of the Seven Kingdoms. Jon was named King in the North when Robb's will was revealed and Davos returned to the Manderlys without Rickon, who just wants to be a normal kid and not a king. Daenerys is queen of what remains of the Crownlands, and Essos is fighting that violent, continent-shattering civil war that keeps getting foreshadowed in the books. Whether or not the Seven Kingdoms remain separate, well... That's a story for another day. 
> 
> The three living dragons died in the Land of Always Winter, beyond the curtain of light at the end of the world, but the dragon riders survived by being forcibly dropped off outside the explosion range. 
> 
> As always, no beta (and written in about an hour) so if you see anything, be a dear and let me know.


End file.
